


The Only Thing Between Us

by Daisybarks



Category: Love Island (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Drinking, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Loss of Parent(s), Mentions Of A Funeral, Mentions of teenage sex, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut, Swearing, Vaginal Sex, idk even how to tag this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:14:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29199696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisybarks/pseuds/Daisybarks
Summary: Brooke Moore was Bobby's first.First crush, first kiss, first shag, first friend with benefits... and no one had quite measured up since she left their shitty backwoods town in her rear-view mirror the day she left for college.So when she comes back unexpectedly almost a decade later – for good, this time – he knows he’s in trouble.He just doesn’t realize how much.**Updating Thursdays**
Relationships: Bobby McKenzie/Main Character (Love Island)
Comments: 92
Kudos: 34





	1. yours for the weekend

**Author's Note:**

> Well, folks, here we are. I lowkey feel like I might pass out. This is an idea that's been living in my head for a while, and since I had the first few chapters written, I thought I would start posting it as Coming Home approaches an end. Brooke has been so much fun to write, so I hope you like(?) her and I hope you like the story. Thanks to MK, Kellee, & Margot for helping me figure out where in the timeline this thing should start, and special thanks to Sarah for your time and encouragement! You're too good for this world.

_summer 2020_

_***_

Chelsea insisted on sitting in the middle. It was sweltering in the church, so at least being on the end of the pew gave Bobby access to the slight breeze sweeping up the aisle from the open doors. Fucking funerals in July, he thought as he pulled at the collar of his shirt. Who wants to get all dressed up in fucking uncomfortable clothes, _all-black_ uncomfortable clothes, and cram into a church with no aircon in the middle of fucking summer? 

Thanks, Bill. Always great timing. 

Bobby rolled his eyes to himself and tapped his foot nervously. She was coming, obviously, he just didn’t know when. He heard that she got in on Tuesday, right before Bill passed. Usually, she’d give him a day or two’s notice before she came to town. Never any “hello,” or “how are you, Bobby?” Nope. Always just a text message asking when they could meet up; an assumption that he’d be around, like she just expected him to be at her beck and call. Like she _knew_ he’d be single, available, and his cock would be hard the second he laid eyes on her. 

Fucking stupid that she was always right, too.

No warning this time though, and Chelsea told him she wasn’t just back for the weekend; she intended to stay for good, move back into her dad’s house and renovate it. Maybe she was finally trying to not be a bitch? Or maybe she didn’t want to fuck him anymore? What if she showed up here with some techy Silicon Valley lad that she met through work? They were probably having amazing rich people sex. God. Good for that guy, Bobby decided. 

_She’s more trouble than she’s worth,_ he told himself over and over. For the last seven years he’d been saying that. 

Never seemed to work to keep his dick out of her, though. 

“Fuck!” he hissed as Chelsea’s elbow connected with his kidney. “What the fuck, Chels?”

“She’s here. Pay attention. Move, so I can give her a hug.”

Bobby rose from the pew, hand on the front of it, and swiveled around. She was _definitely_ here, looking like a straight smokeshow even in her funeral attire; the only person he knew that would wear a lacy black mini-dress to a funeral, her own father’s funeral, and not care if it was appropriate. He didn’t care right now, either; if good legs ‘went for days,’ hers went for months. His thoughts drifted to whether or not she was wearing anything underneath the small skirt, and how soon after this he could get her back to his place and find out. 

Lucas stood up next to him as they watched Chelsea hug their friend. 

“You’re disgusting,” the taller man said.

“What? I didn’t say anything,” Bobby replied.

Lucas shook his head. “You look like an inmate who hasn’t seen a woman in years.”

“It’s not my fault she’s the hottest thing to ever come out of this town.”

“Wrong time, wrong place, Bobby.”

Bobby turned to face his friend and put both hands on his shoulders before he spoke in a serious tone. “You should know by now, there’s never _been_ a wrong time or place for her and me.” He started to let a small smirk cross his lips, satisfied that he’d made his point.

“Like I said: disgusting. Both of you.” Lucas shrugged Bobby’s hands off his shoulders and brought his attention to the girl. 

It was like a funeral version of one of those scenes from _Baywatch_ when she walked up to them. Bobby could swear she moved in slow motion just to give him a better view of what (usually) he’d get his hands on later. Long, dirty blonde hair cascaded down to her very perfect tits in waves, and even with everything going on, she still had a small smile on her lips (also perfect), like she didn’t realize that it wasn’t the best time to be smiling. 

“Luke, I missed you,” she said as she approached. God, her voice. Low and a little raspy all the time like she just woke up. Bobby’s mind flashed through the hundreds of times he’d woken up next to her and heard her make gravelly requests of him to fuck her again. “One more time for the road?” she always asked, hazel eyes wide and mischievous. 

Fuck. He was going to get hard in the middle of this church if he didn’t knock it off. 

After she and Lucas exchanged pleasantries, she brought her attention to Bobby. Her gaze traveled up and down his body in a manner wholly inappropriate for the location, and she moved in to wrap her arms around his neck. 

“There isn’t anything underneath,” she whispered, loud enough for Lucas to hear.

Bobby found himself rolling his eyes again, this time at himself for the way his dick twitched just at her admission. If he could wish for anything, it would be to not want to fuck this girl every time she was within a hundred yards. It was really distracting. 

“Don’t you two _ever_ stop?” Lucas mumbled, shaking his head. “Have some respect for fuck’s sake.”

If the pastor hadn’t been watching, Bobby would have run a hand up her skirt before he let her go, but of course, even he wasn’t _that_ out of control.

“Sorry about Bill, Brookie,” was all he said, and he squeezed her a little tighter as he kissed her cheek. 

“Thanks,” she answered with a sad smile. “He’d want us to have fun though, I think. Morgan’s after?”

“You don’t have to get me drunk to get in my pants, you know?” Bobby teased in spite of himself.

She released him finally and shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, but you last longer that way,” she stated as she tapped a finger on the side of her nose. He was going to assume she was joking, even though he knew that wasn’t her style.

With that blow to his ego, she moved to the front row, next to Chelsea’s parents, and took her seat. The three friends filed back into their pew, Lucas still self-righteous about knowing the best way to behave in a church, and Chels seemingly oblivious to Bobby’s already half-hard state. At least he had an hour-long funeral to focus on; it would surely get rid of that problem. 

But he couldn’t focus on the hymns or the kind words everyone was saying about Bill Moore; as usual when she was around, all he could think about was her. It was frustrating really, he wasn’t even sure if he _liked_ her as a person anymore. 

They’d known each other for so long. She was Chelsea’s friend: the two hottest cheerleaders at their dumb, small-town high school. So when he came to live with Chelsea and the Morgan family as an exchange student, he thought he’d hit the jackpot. Hot host girl, even hotter host girl’s friend. But while Chelsea was sweet and kind, always making him feel included, Brooke Moore was an actual, one hundred percent bitch. She wasn’t mean, really, she just always said exactly what she was thinking, with no regard for how anyone around her would feel about it. 

Over time, Bobby got used to it, knew she wasn’t intending to be rude, but even the first time they made out, she was shitty to him.

“Your tongue moves like a fucking hummingbird, Bobby,” she said, wiping the back of her hand across her lips. “Just open your mouth and pay attention. Do what I do. You’re gonna need to get better at this.”

So she taught him how to be a better kisser, and then two weeks later in the middle of pre-calc homework, she asked, “Have you ever had a blow job?” Totally out of the blue. Like she had no clue that it wasn’t the kind of thing you asked a guy. But he hadn’t, and for some fucking reason he told her so, and that day she blew him under Bill’s dining room table while the fucking cat watched. 

A week after that, new-found confidence brimming, he asked her out. 

“No,” was all she said. And she kept doing whatever chemistry experiment they were meant to be doing while he just stood there, dumbfounded. 

“You’ll suck my dick, but you won’t go to a movie?” he whispered.

“Correct.”

“You’re so weird, Brooke.”

“You can turn down the sex if you want,” she said, shrugging, still focused on their assignment.

“What sex?” he asked.

“The sex we’re gonna have this weekend. Find a condom, Bobby, or maybe a few; Bill’s going out of town.” 

And he did. Got a few from Lucas so he wouldn’t have to go to the only drugstore in the tiny town, and then they did have sex, more than once. The first time was weird, definitely, but he still remembered it like it was yesterday. Her telling him to stop looking at her ‘like that,’ and him being absolutely stunned that naked girls looked so good even outside of magazines and the internet. 

Turns out, she wouldn’t go out with him because Chelsea wanted to; probably amongst many other reasons. He figured this out when the short blonde he lived with asked him to the Sadie Hawkins dance. He’d joined the cross country team, and the other guys were shocked when Chelsea asked _him_ after a race one day. Bobby McKenzie with the dreadlocks and the funny accent and the dumb freckles and even dumber jokes getting asked out by “the hottest girl in school” blew their minds. It was the first of many times Lucas would look at him like he couldn’t believe that such good things could possibly be happening to Bobby and not him. Anyway, Bobby didn’t think Chels was the hottest girl in school. It was obviously Brooke (if you weren’t counting personality), but Chelsea had asked so publicly; so he went to the dance, and they went out a few times after that, but he didn’t like kissing her and she didn’t think he was ‘serious’ enough. 

After a couple weeks, he was back to fucking her best friend in relative secrecy and Chelsea was dating Lucas, the hottest guy in school and one far more ‘serious’ than Bobby, so everything was right again. 

Later that school year, when his parents and sister got in the accident, it was Brooke who was there for him. He knew she didn’t know what to say, but she’d lost her mom, so she was the only one who had an inkling of how he felt. She stayed in his room at the Morgans’ for days, playing records for him and bringing him food. He liked that she never forced him to talk; just stayed with him. It was the first time he felt like she was maybe becoming his friend, which was a little strange because they were fucking a lot by that time. It was definitely the first time she went longer than a day without insulting him. Probably one of the last, too, he thought. 

She came to court the day the Morgans adopted him, sat next to Chelsea, and kept her mouth shut. No one was sure that day if they should be happy or sad, and she knew, because he told her, that all Bobby really wanted was to go back to Scotland. But with no family left, he couldn’t, so this was his life now: adopted family, a girl he had tried to date was his sister, and his only other sort-of friend went down on him under the bleachers during gym class and was otherwise kinda shitty to him. 

It stayed that way all through their senior year: they fucked until one of them dated someone else, and then when that ended, they’d find each other again. They didn’t really hang out: she did cheerleading, he ran cross-country, she was the president of the student council, he was in the French club. Their paths only crossed for the occasional study session, and then on nights when he would sneak out of the Morgans’ and walk through the meadow up to the Moores’ property, hop the fence, and hope that Bill was working late again. 

They didn’t talk in the halls but their friends all knew, the whole school knew since there were only a few hundred kids there and nothing better to do than gossip. Chelsea had a big mouth anyway, and she’d walked in on them more than once. Brooke never seemed to care, a lippy seventeen year old who’d already made “my body, my choices” a motto, and was too hot for anyone to truly give her a hard time. Fucking Brooke gave Bobby some sort of status he didn’t want; girls he found annoying treated it like a game to see if they could date him, like that would mean they were better than Brooke. It made it hard to know who actually liked him and wasn’t just jealous of her, so he never let anyone get too close, and he always ended up going back to her. 

He cried the day she left for college as they hugged in her driveway, and her response was to tell him to “stop being a pussy.” She was sort of right; she wasn’t his girlfriend, wasn’t really even his friend, so he wasn’t sure exactly what he was crying about. For some reason, it felt like a pretty big loss though, and he quietly moped around town for almost four months until he got that first text from her since she’d left, and the first one of many more like it: “ _Home tomorrow. Yours for the weekend._ ”

As Pastor Noah said, “Amen,” and everyone around him stood, Bobby watched her. She rose and turned to the side, a single tear running down her cheek as Chelsea’s mom pulled her into an embrace. He shook off the annoying, fleeting idea that he wanted to wipe that tear from her face; but he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d do with himself now that she was back, for longer than the weekend this time.


	2. at your service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> brooke gets a ride home from her dad's funeral, and finally gets bobby alone.

Lucas made an excuse about having work to do at the shop so that he could avoid going with them to the bar. Brooke figured that was fine; good really, she had no interest in anything related to the hardware store, so she was grateful Lucas was handling it. Except she hadn’t driven to the funeral herself, riding with Chelsea’s parents instead, so now she was going to need to find a different ride to Morgan’s and then… well, she was sure by the way Bobby had looked at her that he’d gladly take her up the hill home when they were done drinking. She really hoped he’d planned ahead and come separately from Chelsea. He was usually good about that kind of thing now that they’d been doing whatever it was that they did for so long. 

Bobby looked great, as usual. Brooke was happy, she thought, that after all this time he still seemed fine with their arrangement or whatever it was. In all the years she’d been in California, where everyone was supposed to be beautiful, she’d not laid eyes on a single guy that did for her what Bobby McKenzie did. She was wet between the thighs just from the hug they’d shared. At her fucking dad’s funeral. If she believed in hell, she’d one hundred percent be heading there, that was for sure. She had meant to keep it together, to not make anything weird or be so obvious about hitting on him in the church, but when she saw him, she couldn’t help herself. 

Good thing Bill always liked Bobby; probably liked him even more than he liked her. They were hilarious together, cut from the same cloth. Bill had sort of taken him in after the Morgans adopted him: teaching him how to work on the ranch, inviting him over for meals, taking him out fishing on the weekends. Everyone loved them both; the crowded church was decent proof of that. They were both funny, charming, disarmingly handsome, and they both loved that godforsaken shit town they all grew up in. Part of her wondered why Bobby stayed after he turned eighteen. He certainly didn’t have the same ties here that the rest of them did, and she knew the Morgans would understand if he left; she was sure they didn’t feel like he owed them anything. Patty and Mark were great people. 

She’d known them since she was in kindergarten, when the Moores moved back to Cedarview. Chelsea was her classmate and Patty was their teacher that year; a few times after that too. Mark owned the only bar in town, aptly named Morgan’s; and when she and Chelsea were young, Mark spent a lot of time there making sure it was successful so that he could give Patty and Chelsea the life he wanted them to have. The couple were Bill’s best friends from high school- and Brooke’s godparents- so it only made sense to everyone in the town that the Morgan girl and the Moore girl would be as close as their parents were. 

Now, sitting at her dad’s funeral, half-listening to Noah talk about her father and his “influence” on the community, she desperately wished she was back a few pews with Bobby, Lucas, and Chels instead of stuck here in the front row next to her godmother, Patty, who was sobbing uncontrollably. 

It had to be almost over, she thought. Then they could go to Morgan’s, get drunk, and she could take Bobby home and let him fuck her until she couldn’t think anymore. All she had to do was get through thirty minutes or so of this and the handshaking she’d need to do when it was over, and then she was free to deal with everything her own way. Quietly and alone. Mostly alone anyway... Bobby didn’t really count. 

“Amen,” Noah said, and the room full of people repeated him. This was it, Brooke thought, and the finality of the whole situation struck her, just a little bit, for the first time. Patty pulled her into a tight hug as they stood, and Brooke felt the first tear she had shed for her dad roll down her cheek. Keep it together, Moore, she told herself as she squeezed Patty, smiled at Mark, and then made her way toward the door of the church to perform her one-woman show, “sad adult orphan wants you to know she’s okay,” for the whole fucking town. 

The only relief was when her friends trickled through one-by-one, confirming their plans to meet at the bar immediately. Finally, Bobby strolled out last; she figured he’d probably lingered on purpose to get her alone, and she was grateful for it, even though she wasn’t quite sure why. Probably because she needed a ride. 

“Hey, Bobby. Thanks for coming.”

“Of course I came. I loved Bill. And I heard the hottest girl in town would be here, so…”

“Oh, you must’ve just missed Lottie.”

Bobby laughed. “I know you know I meant you, Brookie,” he said with that cocky smile he always gave her. “So, Chels says you’re sticking around this time?”

“Yeah, moving to the ranch, I guess. Someone needs to fix it up before it can go on the market. Dad never had time before he got sick.”

“Sorry, Brooke. I know this must be hard. I really do.”

Ugh, feelings. She didn’t want to do this. Especially not with Bobby; that wasn’t the kind of non-relationship they had. They’d never talked about how they felt, and she wasn’t interested in starting now. He hugged her and she put her head on his chest. Maybe that would make him feel better?

“Good thing for you, all I care about is if you’re hard,” she finally said as she lifted her head to look at him properly. And it was as true as anything she’d managed to say that day. 

He gave her a smile, but there was sadness there too, she noticed. “You know me, Brooke, at your service.” 

“Listen, we don’t have to… I mean, I know you probably think it’s weird now that I’m not just getting back on a plane…” she let herself trail off, unsure of what she was even trying to say. What guy wants to be “let off the hook” from a one-night stand? Except it was more like seven years of one-night stands. A seven year stand? Was that even a thing?

“Brooke? Earth to Brooke?” Bobby waved a hand in front of her face, the other still wrapped around her waist. 

“Yeah, sorry… weird day. What were you saying?”

He tugged her in close and walked her back until she was flush against the brick wall of the building. Of course she liked it when he took the lead that way- pins and needles shivers ran through her body under his hands as she let him move her. 

Leaning in, he propped himself up with his arms on either side of her head and brought his face in close to hers, nose on her cheekbone and lips against her ear. Anticipation flooded her veins like a million tiny waterfalls as she felt his hot breath against her skin. 

“I was saying, love,” he whispered before he pulled back slightly and cupped her jaw, tilting her face towards his so that their lips were almost touching, “if you’re here longer than the weekend, just think of how many times I’ll be able to make you come. I know I am.” 

She swallowed and felt her core clench up as he spoke, eyes locked on hers; how could he always do that to her? Unfair, she thought, even though she knew by how close he was standing, and the way she could feel his heart racing, that she had a similar effect on him. 

“Ms. Moore!” 

Bobby jumped away from her like a slingshot at the sound of Noah’s voice booming through the church doors. 

“Oh! And Mr. McKenzie. I didn’t realize you were still gracing us with your presence.” Noah raised an eyebrow and glanced between the two. 

“Noah,” Brooke said, her voice as soft as she could make it, “we grew up together, you can call me Brooke.”

Bobby raised his hand and then pointed at himself, “Bobby. It’s Bobby. You know, Bobby who bought weed from you in high school.”

Brooke barely contained a laugh as she watched Noah flush before he narrowed his eyes at the younger man. God, she loved the way Bobby just said whatever he was thinking; it’s how she knew it was okay for her to do the same to him. 

Brooke broke the tension between the two men. “It was a nice service, Noah. My dad would’ve appreciated all the sweet things you said about him. Bobby and I were just leaving, but thank you for everything.”

“Please, let me know if you find yourself in need of spiritual guidance through prayer during this difficult time, Ms. Moore,” Noah said as Brooke and Bobby began to walk off together toward his car. 

“Pretty sure Bobby’s gonna have me saying his name like a prayer within the hour, Pastor,” she mumbled as they walked, causing Bobby to laugh this time, and leaving a very confused Noah standing at the doors of the church. 

“Wanna skip the bar?” she asked as they climbed into the car. 

“Fuck yes,” he answered with a wink, turning the key in the ignition. 

Brooke threw her head back against the headrest, rolled the window down, and stuck her arm all the way out the window, rolling her hand through the warm summer air as Bobby pulled out of the parking lot and made the turn onto the main road, heading toward her house. As fucked up as all the circumstances around her return to Cedarview were, in this moment, she was happy to be where she was. 

There was a familiarity that she didn’t know she’d been missing in the town with basically only two roads; the way it felt like the passenger seat in Bobby’s car was permanently dented in the shape of her body, the oddly comforting horse shit smell coming from nowhere specific and everywhere all at the same time. And then there was Bobby. Bobby with the same smooth copper skin, perfectly peppered freckles all over, his well-defined jawline, wide lips which were, she hoped, still perfect for trailing wet kisses across her body, and the tattoo on the inside of his forearm that she remembered watching him get the day he turned eighteen. 

It was a delicate thing to be so familiar with someone’s body and at the same time feel like you actually knew very little about their heart or mind. She always liked it that way, though. Nothing was permanent in life; nobody knew that better than the two orphans of Cedarview. And nothing, not even such a nice specimen of male anatomy, was safe to get very attached to. You’d lose or give up everything you cared about eventually anyway. Easier not to let yourself care. 

They passed his former home as they rolled up the dirt road on their way to hers. She could hear Patty’s roosters loud and clear, even in the middle of the day. Bobby’s old bedroom window facing the chicken coop reminded her of all the times she’d snuck down there in the middle of the night and picked her way through piles of chicken crap in the dark on her way to sneak into his room. 

The car had been silent for the whole drive; it was short, sure, but it was a reminder that she and Bobby never really talked. He pulled into the long driveway of her dad’s ranch- her ranch now, and parked behind her small SUV. 

“Well,” he said, “this is you.”

“Are you coming?” she asked. 

He looked down at his crotch like he was checking. “You’ve got a sexy voice, but not that sexy, Brooke.”

She laughed without thinking about it even though his joke was stupid. 

Was she nervous? 

No. That would be insane. She’d fucked Bobby hundreds of times; they had a routine. This was their thing. And at least there was no chance Bill would walk in on them, she thought, almost immediately mad at herself for making internal ‘dead dad’ jokes. 

“Turn the car off, McKenzie; you’ve got work to do,” she said, and lifted herself out of his car, making sure she gave him a view of her ass on the way out. 

Behind her, she heard the engine cut off followed by the slamming of the car door, good signs that he was following her around to the back of the house to come in the dining room entrance. She threw her bag down on the sideboard and headed down the stairs to her room. Halfway down, she realized that as the now sole occupant of the giant farmhouse, she didn’t need to get fucked only in her room, and bounded back up the stairs to meet Bobby as he was coming in the door. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

“We can fuck anywhere!” 

“Okay…”

She ran over to him and grabbed him by the waistband of his dress pants to pull him further into the house. Maybe he didn’t understand how exciting it was that they were free to truly do whatever they wanted for the first time since they were sixteen. She pulled him over to the dining room table and sat on the edge, drawing him between her legs. 

“Like right here, on the table,” she whispered as she started to unbutton his shirt. 

“Yeah?” he asked, trailing kisses up the side of her neck. “You want me to fuck you on the table? In front of the window?”

“Oh god, please, Bobby.” 

His hand dropped down between her legs and she heard him groan next to her ear when he felt that she truly wasn’t wearing anything under her dress and that she was already soaked. 

“You make me so wet,” she sighed as he sank to his knees in front of her. 

Bobby threw her legs over his shoulders and smirked at her as he dropped his head down. His tongue found her core in an instant, and he was drawing his tongue through her folds in long strokes alternating with quicker movements around her clit. 

It was always so good with him; he’d known exactly how she liked it for years, and he never fucked around teasing her unless she asked him to. 

“Fuck, Brooke,” he said before sucking her clit into his mouth and running his teeth across it, just barely, but enough to make her whole body shudder. 

Then he drew his hand back up and slid a long finger inside, pumping in and out of her in time with his tongue for a few strokes before he added a second and spread them apart inside of her, still moving in and out, and getting faster. 

“I’m so close already. Please, Bobby.” She wove her fingers into his dreadlocks and pulled him against her tighter, causing him to moan against her cunt. 

It had to be an awkward angle, but he was nothing if not dedicated in the pursuit of Brooke’s orgasms. 

Some things never changed. 

Adding a third finger, he pulled his head away long enough to plead, “Come on Brooke, I want to taste you when you come.”

And oh, god, did she love when he talked to her like that; loved the way that even her name sounded dirty when he said it. Loved that the plush lips that smiled after he told her shitty jokes and wrapped around the necks of cheap bottles of beer could also do the things he was doing to her now. She was so close, her whole body thrumming with so much anticipation that she was practically fucking his face with the way her hips were moving. 

“Fuck!” she shouted as he reached up and pinched a nipple through the fabric of her dress, then the other, making waves of heat shoot down her body. 

She could feel herself losing it, sort of dizzy and unaware of what was happening anymore as he kept licking and sucking her while she started to come. He slowed his tongue and curled his fingers up as she cried out again and tightened up around him. 

Slowly, he pulled his fingers out of her and watched her as she sat up on her elbows on the table. In her peripheral vision, she saw two of her dad’s cows staring at the house, looking like they were watching the couple’s every move. A small laugh left her lips at the idea of cows being interested in the sex lives of their guardians. 

“What’s so funny?” Bobby asked before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Brooke threw a thumb toward the window and watched his gaze follow out to the pasture. A slow smile came across his face as he saw what she was pointing at. 

“Wanna keep the show going?” he asked, and then more quietly as he moved his fingers back to her still fluttering core, “I think we agreed you’d come more than once.” 

A thoughtless whine escaped her as she spread her legs a bit wider and let Bobby keep doing whatever he liked to her. She saw him grin as he tucked his head back down to lick along the insides of her thighs and then back up to her clit again. His name trickled off her lips a few times in a whisper, a combination of gratitude and anticipation of what was to come. 

The perfect prayer, just like she’d told Noah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eeek! thank you for being here!   
> as always, my inbox is open. you can find me on reddit/tumblr @daisybarks


	3. no one touches you the way i do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hmm... bobby reflects on his not-relationship with brooke.

Bobby woke up early, as usual, but with something unfamiliar and warm on his stomach. He popped an eye open and looked down his body to see Clay, Bill’s orange tabby, splayed across his abdomen. The large cat had liked Bobby since the day Bill and Brooke brought him home from the vet. 

Cedarview was too small for an animal shelter, but Dr. Chauhan would take in strays and animals that had been surrendered and try to sweet talk bar patrons into taking them home after his shifts at the clinic. Clay had been at the clinic since he was born; the largest kitten in the litter of barn cats darting around town that spring. Bill finally gave in after all the other kittens had been adopted; Dr. Chauhan convinced him that it would be good for Brooke to have a companion. Everyone else knew it wasn’t Brooke that needed the company, but they also knew Bill wouldn’t admit that he, in fact, did. 

Bill made Brooke go with him to get the cat, and Bobby was waiting at the ranch when they got home; there was nothing more exciting going on at the Morgans’, so he decided to come down and meet the newest member of the Moore family. At dinner that night, Brooke stayed typically quiet while Bobby and Bill bullshitted about what to name the cat. Eventually, they landed on Clay, an inside joke between the two of them that made Brooke roll her eyes more than once.

Bobby had woken up countless times in the Moore farmhouse in the last almost-decade since Clay arrived, and every time, the cat had been either on him or right next to him. He was always more Bobby’s cat than Brooke’s. Carefully, not disturbing the cat, he turned to see her sprawled out next to him, lean legs tangled around his. It couldn’t be after six, he thought, and he had no clue when they finally fell asleep. 

The afternoon prior, after he made her come something like a half dozen times on the dining room table, he rummaged around the kitchen to find something for them to eat while Brooke showered. It startled him when the doorbell rang, but he didn’t think much of padding to the door in his briefs to answer it. 

Unfortunately, Patty Morgan stood on the other side of the door; the only saving grace being that his adoptive mom had seen him in his underwear before, he supposed. Brooke walked up in only a towel behind him, adding more fuel to the fire of what would surely be hot Cedarview gossip. Patty was gracious in the way that only middle-aged, small-town moms can be; kept her mouth shut but her lips pursed as she handed Bobby a bag full of casseroles and the like to sustain Brooke in her ‘time of mourning.’

It took  _ everything _ in him not to correct her and tell her it was more like a ‘time of moaning.’ 

But he thought it, and he snickered without realizing it, of course at a completely inappropriate time. Patty left down the driveway with an embarrassed caution to them to ‘be safe.’ As soon as Bobby shut the door behind her, he and Brooke were halfway to third base again. 

After dinner, they’d finally made it to her room and it was his turn to come. No one ever fucked him the way Brooke Moore did; hands, mouth, cunt, more if he asked for it, and god, he’d missed it. At this point in his life, in this shit town, he’d exhausted all of his prospects… some in the next town over too. All those girls and not one of them held a candle to her. Maybe it was nostalgia, he thought. Except, even though she was his first everything, they didn’t really reach expert level with each other until sometime the summer after her sophomore year at Berkeley. From then on, though, nothing compared. And he had tried. He’d been dedicated to finding a suitable replacement for years now; convinced that if he could just find someone that knew him the way she did… maybe everything would be different. 

If he was being honest, he’d lost count of how many times they fucked that night. After one particularly good round, they both fell asleep before he’d even pulled out; giving him the opportunity to wake up inside her. Fuzzy-eyed and cloudy-brained, he started moving into her and she responded immediately; it was, in every sense, like a dream. 

Now, in the hazy lavender morning light, she looked dirty and beautiful, still spent and thoroughly fucked with her tangled blonde tresses falling off the side of the bed. Her usually full lips were swollen because of him, and her neck and collarbone were covered in his marks. It had been a long time since she let him do that, and he knew it was probably questionable whether she was in the right mindset for it; but she was sober and  _ she’d _ propositioned  _ him _ … and she’d said yes again and again while he bit and licked and sucked every bit of skin he could get his mouth on. 

Bobby reached over and pushed some hair out of her face when he saw her crack one eye open. 

“Hey, Brookie.”

“Hey,” she replied.

“That was amazing,” he said, sort of kicking himself for being cliché as he spoke. 

“I know.” 

And with that, she pushed Clay off Bobby’s stomach, rolled on top of him, and, appreciating that he was hard again, slid herself back onto his cock. 

“Fuck, Brooke.”

“That’s what we’re doing.”

God, she was annoying. But the way she arched her back and ran a hand through her hair while she rolled her hips against his was completely fucking irresistable. 

Her thighs were still sticky with his cum mixed with her own from the night before, he noted with satisfaction as he slid a hand up to circle her clit with his thumb. 

He watched her ride his dick for as long as he could until she started moving faster on top of him. It was too much, too good, and his eyes fell closed under the heat and the anticipation. 

Soon, she started to tighten and tremble around him and he knew she was close, knew her body well enough to know that a few choice words and a little more pressure on her clit would be enough. 

“You’re so fucking hot, Brooke,” he breathed. “Can you come for me?” 

Brooke let out a long, low moan and met his eyes as she grabbed his free hand and brought it up to her chest. He kneaded the flesh and ran a thumb over her probably still-sensitive nipples; first one, then the other. 

“More,” she whined. “Come on, Bobby.” 

So he put more pressure on her clit with one hand and pinched her nipple hard with the other, and could feel her body quiver before she began to tense up, coming on him with a cry. 

But she only paused for a moment, seemingly eager to get him to follow her, begging him to fuck her deeper and harder, bouncing on his cock just like she knew would get him going. 

His hands flew to her hips and he held her in place as he thrust nearly as hard as he dared into her, groaning, getting her to make those little half-screams of his name that were his favorite sound in the whole world. 

As he finally came, he held her hips down against his, stuttering inside of her, eyes rolling back into his head. When he was finished, she stayed long enough to let his dick stop throbbing before she popped off of him and left to shower without a word. 

_ What kind of girl never wants to cuddle? _

It was all he could think as his eyes trailed after her. He regarded Clay, who’d been watching them fuck from the windowsill, and pulled the cat back down onto the bed. At least there was one member of the Moore family who’d give him an after-shag snuggle. 

“So, what’re you doing today?” Brooke asked as she came back into the bedroom, naked and fluffing a towel through her hair in a lazy attempt to keep it from dripping everywhere. 

“Uh… whatever you want?” 

“Oh... I’ve got things to do. You know. Ranch things?” She looked at him skeptically. 

Everyone knew he wasn’t handy in the ‘traditional’ sense of the word, but he’d lived in Cedarview for ten years; he knew his way around a tractor by now. Kind of.

“Is that your way of telling me to leave?”

She shrugged. “Mi casa es tu casa. But try to stay out of the way.”

As she walked out of the room, she tossed her towel behind herself, barely not hitting him in the face. It made him wonder two things: one, was she going to do chores naked? Two, why the fuck did he put up with her bullshit all the time?

He asked the second question out loud to Clay and heard her call down the hallway in response, “Because no one touches you the way I do, McKenzie.”

  
Bobby  _ hated _ that she was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! short and sweet, this one. as always, you can find my on tumblr or reddit @daisybarks. 💕


	4. nothing better to do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> brooke gets feelings and things get awkward with hope

Brooke rooted around in the kitchen for something to eat that morning, unwilling to commit to getting dressed quite yet with Bobby still in her house. She had debated following him into the shower when she heard the water come on, but she was sore and tired, and she wasn’t sure how soon he’d be ready to go again anyway, so she decided to make breakfast instead. 

Her dad’s kitchen was a mess. A wave of sadness and guilt passed over her, however briefly, when she considered that this was his life without her. She should have come home more often, spent less time fucking around with Bobby, less time drinking with Lucas and Chels, more time just listening to all of Bill’s shitty stories she’d never hear again. 

It got hard at the end. He was so sick, and so not like himself. Patty and Mark took really good care of him, and she knew Bobby spent a lot of time with him too, as evidenced by the dresser drawers in her room that were already filled with his clothes when she tried to unpack upon her arrival earlier in the week. But none of them were her, and she wondered if he really meant it all the times he told her that it was fine, that she should go and live her life in California. She’d taken him at his word then, and appreciated Patty and Mark always echoing him, but now she couldn’t help but feel like she’d missed out. She felt awful that Bobby and Patty and Mark, even Luke and the fucking shopgirl, Hannah, got to experience parts of Bill’s life that she missed. 

_Fuck. I am not going to cry about this,_ she repeated as she stuck her face inside the fridge to cool off the hot tears that had started down her cheeks. 

An arm wrapped around her middle and pulled her backward. She slumped into the firm chest behind her and dropped her head back to Bobby’s shoulder. Twisting her neck so she could sort of see his face, she asked, “Want some eggs?”

“Mmhmm. Want to talk?”

“No,” she said as she craned further and rose on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, though.”

“Brooke, you’re crying.”

_Thanks, asshat, I had no idea._

“It’s fine. It comes and goes,” she replied.

She pulled a skillet down and put it on to heat up while she gathered bread, butter, and rummaged around for spices and salt. The sadness she’d been feeling turned into frustration in a minute when she couldn’t find the goddamned salt to save her life. She was shoving things around in the cupboard and slamming doors as she went. Graceless as always.

“It’s in the top drawer to the left of the oven,” Bobby said quietly from his seat in the living room. He’d busied himself closing all the blinds and curtains, trying to stave off the direct sunlight that would make the whole upstairs fucking unbearable in a matter of hours. 

“What is?”

“Salt. That’s what you’re having a fit about, right?”

“This is _my_ house, Bobby. I don’t need you to tell me where the fucking salt is.”

He raised his arms defensively. “Fine. Sorry.”

Brooke let out a long breath, cracked the eggs in the pan, and set the bread slices in the oven to brown. She turned to face him and braced herself above the sink with an arm on each side of it, leaning forward. He moved through the house just as comfortably as she did, and when she wasn’t busy being a piece of shit human being, she appreciated both his help in getting the house up and running for the day, and the way his towel almost fell off his hips when he stretched up to pull the cord for the ceiling fan. 

“Sorry,” she said quietly. “Thanks for your help.”

“S’alright.” He nodded and joined her in the kitchen, getting plates out as she finished cooking their food. 

They sat at the dining room table in silence, and it was so surreal, she thought. Just the two of them, eating like adults at her dad’s dining room table, Clay begging for scraps from the sidelines. Maybe adults didn’t eat naked (her), or in only a towel (him), but otherwise, it was all very grown up of them. It was pleasantly quiet until Bobby finished eating and broke the silence. 

“I know you said you didn’t wanna talk, but I do. Will you listen?”

She nodded in response as she chewed her toast, so he continued. 

“I know it sounds dumb, but he was so proud of you, Brookie. He talked about it all the time. About all the cool work you were doing, all the people you met… he showed everyone in the fucking town the pictures you sent after you wrote that article about the baseball stadium…” 

What was she even supposed to say to that? Fuck. She knew Bill was proud, but she’d traded all her last possible time with him to get those fucking articles published. How could he be proud that she basically abandoned him while they all knew he was dying?

“I should’ve been here,” she said. 

Bobby reached across the table and unwrapped her hand from around the fork she was gripping too tightly and wound his fingers together with hers. She knew her eyes went wide; Bobby McKenzie had touched her in a lot of different ways, but never, not once before, had he held her hand like a high school sweetheart. She would allow it for a minute, but she wasn’t sure yet if she liked it or not. 

“Remember when my family got in the accident?”

“Yeah.” She nodded cautiously. 

“And you told me that I was exactly where they wanted me to be?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, same goes for you, Brookie.” He squeezed her fingers and then pulled his away, probably sensing he’d pushed the envelope of acceptable contact. 

Brooke let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and pushed her hair away from her face, tying it back with a band she kept around her wrist. 

“I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.” 

“I know.”

She lost track of how long they sat there, but at some point Bobby moved around the table to sit next to her and refilled her tea while she thought too much about Bill, her mom, and Bobby– about all the things that might have been and never were, and all the things that did happen that she wished she could take back. 

“Remember when Bill caught you climbing out of my window before you’d put your pants back on?” she asked, smirking as she replayed the images in her mind: Bill in the doorway to her room with a shotgun and Bobby’s ass half-hanging in the window, screaming for Jesus to help him as he scrambled to get through the opening. 

“Hmm… yeah. I thought I was too pretty to die from a gunshot in the ass.”

“You’re just the right amount of pretty for that.”

Bobby laughed and squeezed her thigh under the table. “You ready to do some chores then?”

“Probably should be, huh? Thanks, Bobby.” She smiled up at him and found him looking back at her, something on his face she hadn’t seen before. It didn’t quite seem like pity, but something close, and she supposed she’d maybe looked at him the same way when he lost his family all those years ago. All those years had passed, and she wasn’t sure why he stuck around with her; but in this moment, she was infinitely grateful. 

Her phone rang next to her, the only thing that made her realize that she was still staring at him like an idiot. 

“This is Brooke,” she answered. 

“Brooke! It’s Hope! Hope Nelson! Well, Hope Nelson, Attorney at Law, now.” Brooke rolled her eyes. Everyone knew Hope was a fucking lawyer, that woman made sure of it – practically parading her law degree around the town – reminding anyone she spoke to that she, Hope Nelson, had made it big. Cedarview big, anyway. 

“Oh, hi, Hope. You’re a lawyer now?! Oh my god! I had no idea! Hey, Bobby! Bobby, did you know Hope’s a lawyer now?” She watched Bobby snickering at her while she yelled into the phone with enthusiasm.

“Bobby didn’t know either. Bobby McKenzie, you know, the manager at Morgan’s?”

“I um… yes. Of course I know Bobby. So, Brooke, I’m calling because we need to go over your father’s will. I’m going to need you to come down to my office. You’re the executor, so you can pass info along to the others involved, or I can just tell you that Lucas Koh is the only other party named in any significant way, so he can come with you if you’d like.”

“Can you come up to the ranch? We’re busy up here.”

“I think I could make that work. Yes. When would be a good time?”

“Hold on. Let me ask Bobby. Bobby! When are we gonna be done fucking?”

Hope audibly gasped on the other end of the phone, causing Brooke to double over with poorly contained giggling. Bobby laughed loud enough that she knew the other woman could hear, and continued washing their dishes while his shoulders shook. It was so fun to make Hope uncomfortable. 

“Well, Hope, guess we’re out of condoms, so anytime is fine. I’ll call Lucas and see what time he can be here. I’ll have him text you.”

Brooke ended the call and shot off a quick text to Lucas telling him to come up and have Hannah open the shop so they could get the will business over with. Then she grabbed Bobby and pulled him downstairs so they both could get dressed. 

After they’d fed and milked the cows, let the chickens out into the run, and made a list of the outdoor repairs the ranch needed, Bobby made sure to remind her a dozen times that she’d have to start waking up earlier now that she was in charge. It’s not like she didn’t know that, but she didn’t exactly sign up for this, either. She’d always figured ranch life would come when she was older. Or never, because Bill would leave the ranch to Bobby anyway, or sell it or something before it became Brooke’s problem. But now here she was, ranch owner, hardware store owner, single twenty-five year old woman with responsibility she didn’t want. Not to mention a companion she hadn’t asked for, she noted as she watched Bobby pull a ladder out to check the roof of the barn. 

“You don’t have to do this,” she called to him. 

“I know.” 

“So why are you?”

“Nothing better to do, I suppose.”

“I can’t pay you.”

“Didn’t ask you to.”

Brooke crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not prostituting myself for help around here.”

Bobby laughed and climbed down the ladder. 

“Nope, seems like you do that part for free,” he observed with a smirk as he walked back into the house, leaving her standing in the driveway with her mouth hanging open. 

Lucas arrived only a few minutes later on his motorcycle. Brooke had never understood how he could or why he’d want to drive that thing up all the shitty, un-graded dirt roads around town. It probably helped that Lucas lived down the hill closer to town where the roads were paved, close to the hardware store, and close to all of their friends who’d almost all left the ranches at the earliest opportunity. Bobby was the only one who voluntarily came up the hill to visit with the Morgans and Bill. Even Chels didn’t like to unless it was a forced Sunday dinner sort of thing. 

Bobby and Brooke leaned out the front door and yelled greetings to Lucas as he pulled off his helmet and came up the driveway. 

“Hello,” Lucas said as he climbed the stairs to the front porch. “How’d you get here so early?” he asked, obviously directed at Bobby. Before he could answer, Lucas continued, “I probably don’t want to know. Nevermind.”

They’d barely sat down when Hope pulled into the long driveway; you could hear her Hummer from almost literally a mile away. 

“Good thing she’s keeping it lowkey,” Brooke mumbled as Bobby shot her a look, a warning to be on her best behavior. 

Hope, Lucas, and Brooke all sat at the dining room table while Bobby grabbed iced tea and glasses for the group. On any other day, she’d be irritated for the second time that he knew her house better than she did, but for some reason, she wasn’t. Just a little thankful that someone was dealing with all the inconsequential bullshit that she couldn’t be bothered to consider while her head was still swimming with thoughts of her dad’s death. 

“So, everything here is pretty straightforward as far as I can tell,” Hope started. “Brooke, you’ll get a copy of everything, but all you have to do is follow the instructions your father left and sign everywhere there’s an ‘x.’”

“Alright. So what’s the breakdown? Assuming Lucas is here because Dad wanted him to have something?”

“Yes. So in the will, Brooke, you’ve been granted ownership of Moore Lumber and the Moore ranchland, including the farmhouse.” 

“But?” Brooke asked.

“But, your father stipulated that Mr. Koh should retain his position of general manager of Moore Lumber and also take over leadership of Moore Holdings.” When Brooke looked confused, Hope added, “It’s the company your father created to manage the assets of the hardware store and a few other small ventures. Lucas would be paid a salary as outlined on this document.” Hope handed the page to Brooke. It looked like Lucas would be fine financially if he wanted to keep the job, and it would be a huge relief to Brooke, so she hoped he’d stay on.

“You’re good with this? He already told you this was coming, right?”

Lucas nodded. “I’m honored, Brooke. Yes. I’m looking forward to working with you. Or for you, I suppose.”

She smiled. “Let’s just say ‘with,’ okay? You know how I feel about the shop.” She turned her attention to Hope again. “What about him?” she asked, pointing at Bobby sitting next to her. 

“Mr. Moore left a separate letter for Mr. McKenzie and asked that I not read it.” 

She slid the envelope across the table to Bobby. “Bill also specified that _you_ should wait six months to read it. Lastly, he asked that you help Brooke with the livestock, but obviously there’s nothing legally binding there, so do with that what you will.” 

Bobby nodded and ran his fingers over his name on the front of the envelope, pressed into the paper in Bill’s handwriting. It looked like he’d written it before he got too sick, Brooke thought. The pen strokes were solid and straight, no signs of the tremors that worsened in the last year or so. The letter was an awful reminder that her dad knew he was dying for a long time, far longer than he’d admitted to her. 

It took her a minute to realize that Hope had still been talking while Lucas looked nervously back and forth between Bobby and Brooke. She also hadn’t noticed she’d started crying again until that moment, and when she looked up at Bobby, he had tears running down his cheeks too. 

Against her better judgement, she scooted over on the bench and leaned her head on Bobby’s shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist. Any comfort would do and they couldn’t exactly fuck with Hope and Lucas watching. 

Lucas stood up and moved to her other side, taking her hand in his. “I’m sorry, Brooke,” was all he said before silence settled over the group, broken only by the occasional sniffs from Bobby or Brooke. 

“I should go,” Hope said after a while. 

“Thanks for coming.”

“Sure. Call if you have questions.”

After she was gone, the three old friends sat in Brooke’s dining room in heavy silence for most of the rest of the morning. It wasn’t anything like the nonstop fun they usually had together when she was in town, and she hated it, but didn’t have the energy to do anything else. 

Finally, Bobby spoke. “You want to go back to bed, Brookie?”

She pulled herself off of Bobby’s shoulder to head downstairs with a nod, not a word to either of her friends. 

When she woke up a few hours later, as the sun was setting, it took her a minute to remember where she was, and that there were still chores to do before dusk. 

“Bobby!” she called, but there was no response. She padded upstairs and found a note scrawled in messy handwriting on the dining room table. 

_Chores done, cat fed, salad in the fridge for dinner. See u tomorrow. -B_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! come find me @daisybarks everywhere if you'd like to chat. the reception to this story so far has made my heart so warm! thank you so much! 💕


	5. i need a distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> brooke's depressed and needs a distraction. bobby's happy to oblige, if just to escape chelsea's questions.

The bar had been closed for Bill’s funeral on Saturday, and again on Sunday, so when Bobby got to work on Monday morning, he should’ve been refreshed from the weekend off. Instead, he was tired and a little cranky without really knowing exactly why. It had been good to go home on Sunday and sleep in his own bed, but he didn’t actually sleep much; just worried about Brooke like an idiot. She was fine, he thought. She never needed anyone before, and didn’t now. 

He busied himself with some paperwork he hadn’t finished on Friday, then went about getting the bar open in time for lunch. Just as he unlocked the front door and turned on the ‘open’ sign, Chelsea bopped in through the back with a loud greeting.

“Bobby! Hey babe!”

“Morning, Chels.”

She made her way behind the bar and started washing all the citrus fruit so they could juice for that day’s mixers. Usually, her bright demeanor was Bobby’s favorite part of Monday mornings; the two of them would crank the music up and dance around the bar while they got their opening list done, having a great time and catching up on what happened over the weekend, since no one ever showed up for the first hour they were open anyway. Today though, Bobby just didn’t have it in him to match her enthusiasm. 

They’d worked together since high school, and when Mark was ready to step away from running the bar, Bobby was surprised when the Morgans offered it to him instead of Chelsea. It turned out that Chelsea was content to bartend and didn’t really have an interest in running the business, but the two of them made a great team. Chelsea booked music and planned events, Bobby dealt with the vendors and the staff, and between the two of them, Morgan’s stayed the most popular spot in town. Helped that it was the only bar, he supposed, but people could easily go drink up the road if they’d been doing too bad of a job keeping it up to standard. 

“What’s wrong, Bobs?”

“Nothing. Why?” 

“What’d she do?”

“I dunno what you’re talking about, Chels.”

“Alright… how’s Brooke then?”

“Um… confused mostly, I think? Sad? I don’t know, we don’t really talk.”

Chelsea pursed her lips together and shook her head as she pulled the handle down on the citrus juicer. She opened her mouth a couple of times like she had something to say, but she didn’t speak. 

“What, Chels?”

“Nothing.” She paused, but Bobby could see her almost vibrating with the need to say whatever it is she was thinking. It wouldn’t be much longer…

“You’re always like this when she’s around,” she finally said. 

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… just off.”

“Pfft…” Bobby huffed. “Chels, I like when Brooke’s around. I get laid. I’m fine.”

“Sure, Bobs. Okay.”

Chelsea kept juicing as Bobby finished pulling all the stools down. He emptied his pockets onto the bar, shrugged his jacket off, and went to hang it up in the back room. When he returned a few minutes later, Chelsea was smirking and doing that weird bouncing thing she did. 

“What now?”

“You’re getting texts.”

Bobby shot out an arm to grab the phone and Chelsea added, “They’re not from her.”

Please. Like he would just sit around waiting for Brooke to text him. He wasn’t pathetic. He could sleep with anyone in town except Chelsea. He didn’t need Brooke Moore’s attention. There for sure wasn’t a little, almost invisible pang of disappointment when he picked up his phone and saw that the messages were, in fact, not from Brooke. 

“It’s Hannah,” he said.

“I know.” The small blonde smirked. “I was more interested in your lock screen.”

“Don’t look at my shit, Chels. You’re like a stereotype of a nosy sister.”

“I am your nosy sister, Bobby. Wanna tell me why that picture is your lockscreen?”

“No.”

“Mom said you answered the door in your underwear on Saturday.”

“So?”

“At Brooke’s house?”

“Do you have something to say, Chels? Or are you just asking dumb questions you already think you know the answer to for fun?”

His ‘sister’ shook her head and kept smiling, mixing simple syrup into the juices and pouring everything into pitchers. 

“I don’t ask about what’s going on with you and Lucas,” he noted, popping onto a barstool. He couldn’t figure out why he was annoyed, or why he was voluntarily continuing this fucking irritating conversation with her. Since Friday, when he knew Brooke was in town, he’d been finding himself doing all kinds of things that he didn’t realize he was doing: hitting on her at Bill’s funeral for starters, holding her hand over breakfast like a complete asshole, talking to Chelsea about her… what was wrong with him? 

“We’re engaged. It’s not hard to understand, babe,” Chelsea said.

“Well, there is no ‘me and Brooke,’ so that’s not hard to understand either.”

“Why’s her photo your lockscreen then?”

“She’s fucking hot, Chels. It’s like having my own personal swimsuit edition in my pocket.”

“Hmm… sure. Alright, Bobs.” She smiled and took her backup mixers into the back room, leaving him at the bar to wonder what exactly she was on about today. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t helping his mood. He leaned back on the barstool and tried to clear his head, but ended up just wondering when he’d see Brooke again. His thoughts were interrupted when his phone rang; and this time when he picked it up to see who was calling, there was a gorgeous freckled face staring back at him. 

“Hey, Brookie.”

“Hey… you busy?” She knew he was at work, so what was he supposed to say? The answer was obviously ‘yes.’ 

“Never too busy for you. What’s up?” Ugh, why was he talking like that?

“Just wondering if you wanted to come over?” she asked.

“Need help with something?” He meant it as a genuine question, but it came out in his ‘fuck me’ voice before he could stop himself. 

“You could say that.”

“I dunno, Brooke, I’m pretty busy at the bar,” he replied as he looked around the empty room to see Chelsea standing at the end of the bar, watching him with a hand on her hip.

“Please, Bobby? I can make it worth your while. I need a distraction.”

Bobby sighed and considered his options. He could stay here and get judged by Chels for a reason he wasn’t sure of, or he could go get laid again. It wasn’t really a choice, was it?

“Yeah, alright. I’ll talk to Chels and be up there in a bit.”

“Perfect. I’ll be ready, Bobby. See you soon.”

Bobby hung up and put his phone back on the bar. He looked over at Chelsea, who was still watching him with a smirk. He didn’t need to explain himself to her, he thought. They were all adults, and it really should be up to him how he wanted to spend his time. 

“What?” he asked, exasperated. 

“Why don’t you, you know, like... ask her on a date or something?” Chelsea asked. 

Bobby’s eyes popped open wide as he started laughing. “Why would I do that, Chels?”

“Because you like her maybe?”

“Nah. Not particularly.”

Chelsea approached him with a kind smile. Even though she was annoying, he really was lucky she was his family now. “You can’t put everyone in the friendzone forever, Bobby. She turned you down once. Almost ten years ago. Things change sometimes, you know?”

“She doesn’t change, Chels. Anyway, you don’t need me here, right? I’m gonna head up the hill.”

“See you later, babe. Wrap it up.”

Bobby drove to Brooke’s and found himself mindlessly speeding as he crested the hill past the farms, fields, and his old house. He wasn’t in a hurry to get there really, or he hadn’t known he was, anyway. But as he pulled into her driveway, he felt a weird sense of anticipation. It wasn’t unusual, he almost always felt that way when she was in town, but that was because she was always about to leave, right? Now that she was here to stay, there wasn’t any rush, or pressure to fit as much of each other in as they could in two days. So why did he still feel that rumbling in his stomach, like nerves and excitement all at once? Suddenly, he was also really glad he’d showered that morning, and that thought made him feel strange as he unlocked the back door of her house and went inside. 

“Brookie?” he called, not seeing her anywhere in the dining or living rooms. 

“Down here.” It sounded like she was in her room, so Bobby dropped his keys and wallet on the table and headed downstairs. 

Before he opened the door to her room, he thought he’d known what to expect: maybe she’d be sitting on the floor listening to music or at her desk writing. He wasn’t sure when she was going to start picking up work again. Instead, what he found was Brooke laying on her bed, completely naked, with the other day’s bites and bruises all over her body, and she was just waiting for him with a hand between her legs. 

“Oh… hey,” she said, looking up with round eyes like she was surprised he was there. As if she hadn’t called him up here for sex and then told him where to find her. 

Like this was all just very casual.

“Hey? That’s all?” Bobby asked, raising an eyebrow at her before he pulled his t-shirt off over his head. 

“You look good today, Bobby. Thanks for coming up.”

“You look good today too, Brookie. I like your spots.” His dick twitched when he looked down from her face and saw that she was still touching herself while they talked. 

Fuck, she was so painfully hot. How was he supposed to function if she never left? He’d be the guy you see television shows about with an erection that lasted for days. 

He’d die eventually. 

She smiled at him. “You like what you see, then?”

“Yeah, of course I do.”

“Your turn.”

Brooke was watching him intently while she rubbed her clit, and when he pulled his jeans down and his briefs off, she spread apart her knees like a reward to him for doing what she wanted. 

“Touch yourself, Bobby. I wanna see.”

“Fuck, Brooke, can’t I just touch you?”

“Not yet. I’ve already made myself come twice just thinking about you.”

Jesus Christ. This is it. This is how Bobby McKenzie dies at age 26.

With her free hand, she tossed him a bottle of lube from off of her nightstand. He squeezed a couple drops into his palm, and started stroking his cock as he watched Brooke slide a finger inside herself. 

“God, you’re so hot like that, Bobby. Do you think about me when you touch yourself?” 

“Yes. Fuck... All the time,” he breathed as he moved his hand faster. 

“Do you imagine it’s me touching you? Do you wish it was my mouth on you?”

All he could do was nod and put all of his energy into not coming immediately as he watched her. Brooke had two fingers inside now and she was rolling her hips up as she fucked herself, still staring at him as he touched his dick. 

“Please, Brooke. Let me fuck you?” It came out as a whimper, and he really didn’t want to come on his own hand like this in front of her, but he was absolutely fucking going to if they didn’t change strategies soon. 

She pulled her fingers out and brought them up to her lips, slowly wrapping them around her index finger and sucking at it, hollowing her cheeks. Then she stuck her hand out and offered him her middle finger. “You wanna taste?”

Oh shit. 

He dropped his cock and moved to the bed, crawling between her knees, and taking her finger in his mouth. 

How embarrassing was it that he actually moaned when he tasted her on her own hand? She just smirked and pulled her finger back before she pulled him down close to her. She ran her tongue up his neck to his ear and whispered how much she loved watching him taste her, and he was so turned on but confused at the same time about how she could always do this to him. 

His cock was pressed up against her as she was talking and sucking his earlobe between her teeth, and just as he had the thought to shift so he could press inside her, she reached between them and grasped him, jerking him slowly, too slowly. Bobby bit her lip in protest, and she smiled at him as she moved her hand faster, but he just needed more. 

“Come on, Brooke. I need to be inside you.”

“I need it too,” she whispered, and thank god, he thought, because felt like he couldn’t even breathe, he wanted her so badly. 

She lined him up with her and let go so he could enter her. Fuck, she must’ve not been lying about making herself come, because she was completely soaked. 

As he fucked her, he let himself wonder how something, someone, could feel so new but so familiar every time. It was never boring with her; it never got old. If he could fuck Brooke every day, he would. 

“Harder, Bobby… come on,” she urged as she rubbed her clit and bucked her hips up in time with his movements. 

“I’m fucking close already,” he replied. “Let me make you come.”

She bit her lip and nodded, so he pulled out of her and tugged her to the end of the bed before he tucked his head down and started licking her in long strokes. 

“Just like that…” she whined as he ran the point of his tongue across her clit, and then moved to lick up inside of her. The hottest fucking thing he could think of was that he could taste himself on her, and he wondered if he could come just from that: from tasting her and hearing the sounds she made for him. 

“I’m gonna come again, Bobby,” she announced as he sucked softly on her clit and stuck two fingers inside her. And she did, shaking and whining before her body went taut under him and she cried out his name the way he loved. 

When she was done pulsing around his hand, he pulled her legs up so he could fuck her, and slid his cock back into her quickly. He was close; he’d been half hard since she said she needed a distraction on the phone, and on edge since she had him jacking himself for her to watch. 

He moved into her quickly and hard and watched her tits with his bite marks on them bounce while he fucked into her, and felt himself starting to lose control a bit. 

“You feel so good…” she whined, and it was enough since he was so close already. He rocked into her and held her knees up against his body as he came inside her, shuddering his release. 

“Holy shit, Brooke,” he sighed as he held her there and rode out his high. 

After a minute, he set her legs down and watched her scoot up so that she was all the way back on the bed. She patted the space next to her and asked, “Hey… will you lay with me?”

She’d never asked him that before, so it felt a little awkward; they’d only ever really cuddled a couple of times when they were teenagers. But, obviously she was going through some shit, and he didn’t actually think he’d mind it too much, so he laid down next to her and stuck out his arm, motioning for her to come closer. Brooke put her head on his chest and slowly snaked her arm around his waist. For a while, they stayed like that, and Bobby pulled a blanket up over them while they just breathed and tended to their separate thoughts. Eventually, she looked up at him and smiled. 

“This is weird, huh?” she asked. 

“Yeah, but it’s alright.” Bobby smiled back at her and pushed some of her hair off of her face. 

“I think so too.” 

Brooke put her head back down on his chest, still with a slight grin on her lips. Eventually, his breath aligned with hers, and he fell asleep to the sound of her soft snores on top of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you may know the drill now, but please come find me on tumblr/reddit @daisybarks– always happy to chat!


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